


Scene from the Refuge

by magicgamble



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:03:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicgamble/pseuds/magicgamble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short drabble where Jack comes to break Crutchie out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scene from the Refuge

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to this fandom please don't hate me thanks!

Jack was getting anxious. He’d tapped on the first-floor window ages ago, and still, no one had arrived. He had spent enough time at the Refuge to know that this room was filled with bunk beds and tired, antsy kids all wearing the same white cotton clothes. They would be alone for the night. Jack had made sure to time his visit accordingly. So why was it taking so long for-

Suddenly, the shutters swung open, and a boy who looked vaguely familiar stood there, wiping sleep from his eyes. His face slowly lit up when he recognized the late-night visitor. “Jack Kelly-!” he exclaimed, but Jack shushed him.  

“Do you want the warden to know I’m here? Jeez, kid.”

The boy shut his mouth.

“You got a new arrival today,” Jack explained. “Goes by Crutchie. Do you know him?” The boy nodded, and Jack sighed impatiently. “You can talk. Just don’t be too loud.”

The boy nodded again and said, “yeah, I knows him. He’s here.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Here, as in, in this room?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ kid, you’re killing me. How’s he doing?”

“Well, he’s got a gimp leg.”

Jack reeled in all the patience he possessed. “ _Besides_ that.”

The boy made a face like he was wincing. “I’ll just get him for you.” He turned into the room, and hissed, “hey, Crutchie!” Jack couldn’t hear any response, but the boy continued, “yeah, it’s Jack Kelly here to see ya.”

Jack waited for Crutchie to show up at the window, and after an agonizingly long time, the dirty-faced, curly-headed kid hobbled up with the help of one of the other boys. “Thanks, Robby,” he muttered, grabbing on to the bars in the window and facing Jack.

“Crutchie,” Jack whispered.

“Heya Jack,” he said. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to bust you out, what do you think?”

Crutchie just shrugged good-naturedly, but Jack’s grip on the bars in the window tightened when he saw the dark purple bruise under Crutchie’s left eye. Suddenly, a number of details became clear. The tight, contained expression of pain on Crutchie’s face, the cut eyebrow and the dried blood crusted over the wound, and the way he, too, gripped the bars separating them, his fingers only a few centimeters below Jack’s.

“Crutch, what the hell happened?” Jack asked, barely breathing. “I turned and you were just- you were _gone_.”

Crutchie blinked slowly and shrugged again, his eyes downcast. “I couldn’t keep up. I fell and the Delancey brothers were on me in a second. Soaked me pretty good.”

Hatred burned a hole through Jack’s chest, and the copper taste of blood in his mouth made him realize he’d been biting the inside of his cheek. “How are you doing now?” he asked, his voice not as strong as he’d like it to be. “Does it hurt pretty bad?” He tried to focus on asking questions so he wouldn’t burst into a rage.

Crutchie attempted a smile, but winced in the middle of it, making Jack even more anxious than he had been before. “I ain’t really walking too good, Jack,” he admitted. “But- but it’s fine. I’ll be okay. I’ll be ready to bust out in no time, you’ll see.”

“Where’s your crutch?” Jack asked, remembering that he’d had help from another kid in getting over here.

“It uh...” Crutchie faltered for a moment, and Jack saw his composure slipping. The sadness was there in his voice, his face, even the set of his shoulders, and Jack was sure, in that moment, that Crutchie was going to let it win. However, he suddenly looked up and explained, unhindered, “my crutch got broken up when they was hittin’ me with it. Pretty tough break.”

Jack cursed under his breath, trying desperately to keep this rage under control. No one hurt Crutchie. No one.

“Hey,” Crutchie whispered, covering Jack’s hand with his own, “you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, meeting Crutchie’s eyes. “It’s my fault yous in here.”

“What?” Crutchie’s eyes widened. “No it ain’t.”

“I told you I’d look out for you, kid, and look at where you’re at.”

“Jack-”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Jack insisted. “I never shoulda let you outta my sight.”

“Hey, listen,” Crutchie pleaded. “It ain’t your fault, Jack. I ain’t gonna let you take the blame for this, alright? You couldn’t have just been lookin’ out for me back there. That doesn’t make any sense. You’re leading a strike, you know? Yous got a lot of responsibilities. Sure, I got caught, but it ain’t the end of the world.”

Jack was silent for a moment. “I just hate that you got hurt,” he said when he finally spoke again. There was a sort of tenderness that appeared in Jack when he was around Crutchie that he hadn’t ever been able to explain. It made him honest. He’d told this kid more about himself than he’d told anyone else. He’d promised him more than he even knew.

“Well,” Crutchie tried for a smile again, “gettin’ hurt ain’t exactly my favorite thing either.”

Jack smiled back. “So, no chance of getting out of here tonight?”

Crutchie hesitated, but finally sighed and said, “I don’t think so, Jack. I’s barely standin’ on my own, and my crutch is-”

“Gone. Right.” Jack frowned, sparing another glance at the bruise on Crutchie’s face. “Dammit. You can bet, I’m gonna soak those Delanceys real good for you, Crutch. See how they like it.”

Crutchie smiled. “Good. Give ‘em hell.”

“You got it,” Jack chuckled, clasping his other hand over their already touching ones. Crutchie’s smile wavered, and he looked up at Jack almost nervously, his throat working as he swallowed.

“Crutch?” Jack asked, when suddenly, Crutchie reached out through the bars, grabbed Jack’s shirt, and pulled him in, slamming their lips together. Jack was so surprised for a moment that he didn’t remember to breathe.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it had begun, with Crutchie rearing back in shock, as if he hadn’t been the one to start it. He had to catch himself on the windowsill so he wouldn’t tumble backwards. His eyes were wide, and his eyebrows were scrunched together. Worried.  Breathing heavily, he reached to pull the shutters closed. “Good luck with the strike, Jack,” he said softly.

“Wait-” Jack tried to stop him, but the window was shut before anything else could be said. Jack stood staring at the closed shutters, open-mouthed, and wondering how it was that he hadn’t been the one to make the first move.


End file.
